The Hooded Man
by Liek
Summary: COMPLETE. Robin Hood, middle earth style.. (but WITHOUT transportations into Middel earth)


**The Hooded Man. **

_Disclaimer: Neither Aragorn nor Legolas belong to me... (a shame really). Also... I don't have any rights to say anything about Robin Hood. But as I'm not making money with this fic (another shame) I guess it will be all right. Right? _

_Rating: PG (or PG-13 for the really tender hearted) _

_Written for: the Teitho Fairytale Challenge. (fairy tale ME style) _

**The Hooded Man. **

He could no longer watch in silence from behind the bushes. He believed in Honour and Justice and Freedom. In his opinion a king should treasure those thing above all else. Every wise man should. But apparently John II, ruler of a small kingdom of man that once was a part of Gondor, was neither a king nor a wise man.

And his soldiers were even worse.  
The hooded man notched his bow and aimed.

"What are you _doing_?" His friend asked beside him, worried; shocked even.  
"I cannot let this happen." The hooded man answered. "There is no justice in this. It is madness. The peasant is right, his children are starving, he had every right to shoot the deer."  
"You are aiming at the soldiers." his friend observed. "Those soldiers are men like you. Your own kin."  
The hooded man shook his head. "Not my kin. I've chosen exile."  
"Your kin still" The other figure argued.  
"That peasant is my kin now. And if I don't shoot the soldier the peasant will die." The hooded man snapped.

His companion did not answer.

"I'm shooting now." The hooded man said.  
His companion did not answer and turned his head away from the scene before them.  
"Shoot with me." The hooded man asked.  
His companion shook his head, without looking at the man beside him. "No" he whispered, as if the word caused him great pain. "No Aragorn, I cannot. I'm no kinslayer, do not try and turn me into one. Do not ask this of me."

"Legolas..."  
His friend turned away.  
"Legolas… Please shoot with me. There are too many soldiers; I cannot do this alone. Help me save the peasant. Please. It is the right thing, my friend. Shoot."  
The elf did not answer. He didn't even look up. Yet he slowly drew his bow and aimed.  
"We'll be outlaws after this." Legolas whispered. "We'll be doomed forever."  
"If there is no justice in a law, I'd rather be an outlaw." Aragorn replied.

Legolas slowly shook his head. His face was pale, his hands were shaking.

Yet he shot.

He missed on purpose, but he did shoot.

* * *

"Sir! Wait a minute, sir! Not so fast! That was amazing, sir! Sir! Wait, sir!"  
Aragorn slowed down and allowed the boy to catch up. "You scream loud enough to attract every soldier in the forest, boy. Are you insane?"  
"You are _him_, are you not?" The boy nearly wet himself in excitement.  
"Who?" Aragorn asked.  
The boy's eyes twinkled.  
"The Hooded Robber! The one that steals from the rich and gives to the poor! The one that resists Prince John! The one that gave hope to the people! The most amazing archer in the world!"  
"I'm not the most amazing archer in the world." Aragorn said distracted, and looked back to check on Legolas.

The stubborn elf still disagreed with what they were doing. Sure, the prince of Mirkwood did see that the peasants of the land were suffering and he was willing to do something about it, but he still refused to kill of the human soldiers in order to do so.  
Legolas was struggling with his conscience. He was a trained warrior, but in all his long years the elf had slain only servants of the Dark Lord. Orcs, spiders, even trolls; the elf could kill without a minute of regret or remorse.

But these humans were a different matter. Prince John, though a cruel leader was no servant of Sauron, not even in an indirect way. The evil that made him starve his people was nothing fancy. No evil Lord had persuaded him to ask for more taxes than the people could pay. No great lit-less eye had talked John into forbidding peasants to hunt their own food. Nothing had forced John to be a heartless leader, nothing but his own human greed.

And humans were Illuvatar's secondborn, which, in Legolas' interpretation, meant they were kin. And the last thing the elf would ever do was to slay kin.  
He was no kinslayer.

But Legolas was a loyal friend. And he could see freeing these peasants and helping them find their lives again was very important to Aragorn. And not something the ranger could do all by himself.

So the elf was struggling with himself; shooting with Aragorn when the human asked him to. But he didn't shoot to kill. Not even when the soldiers where advancing on him, did the elf kill them. The only reason he had survived the latest battle was because Aragorn had killed his attackers for him.

The ranger sighed. He had heard the stories the peasants told about the two of them, stories of the Hooded Robber and his young friend. In all those stories he, Aragorn, was portrayed as the brilliant archer and hero of all people, while his best friend was nothing but his clumsy younger helper.  
Aragorn knew that even though Legolas never mentioned it and pretended not to care, or notice, that it hurt the elf.

"I'm not the best archer in the world." The ranger repeated, the boy still tagging along. "My friend over there is." He pointed at Legolas, who looked up and gave a small smile.

"Him?" The boy said giving a small snort. "Please sir! Everyone knows what little good_he_is. _He_missed the prince's steward when he was standing right in front of him! He didn't hit a single soldier today! You can't fool me, sir! I know all about you!"  
Aragorn looked back and saw the smile on Legolas face disappear. Aragorn worried greatly about his friend.

For his own conscience the Ranger had to do this.  
And for his own conscience the Elf could not.

If they weren't very careful now, that difference could end their friendship.

* * *

With time others joined; his little gang of outlaws grew.  
Aragorn's resistance had awoken something in the peasants, hope for a better life, and the will to fight for it.

There was the strong and huge John Little, also known as Little John.  
A former healer with a love for wine, named Tuck.  
A disserted soldier named Will Scarlet.  
A mistral named Allan of Dale.

They all looked at Aragorn as their leader and their friend, and Aragorn saw them as his friends in return. He had quickly recognized the leading qualities in John, and he had made the giant his second in command.  
The others were trained as his warriors. He had taught them to shoot and to fight like free men. For the first time in his life Aragorn experienced what it was like to be a leader of man. What it was like to be a king.

It led him to a few shocking realizations.  
The first was that he actually liked to be the one in charge. It was frightingly easy. He was good at it.  
And the other realization was how easy it was to forget about Legolas in the process.

His best friend supported him, Aragorn was sure of that. But though the elf supported his leadership, he did not support his decisions. The elf was not truly part of Aragorn's men. He just didn't fit in.

* * *

"I'm worried about that elf, Robin."

It took Aragorn a few moments to realize his second in command was speaking to him.  
Robin... Robin Hood. It was the name they had chosen for him, right after they had decided "Estel" was no name for a man, and they would much rather continue to call him "Hooded Robber"

"The elf?" Aragorn looked around. "What is wrong, John?"  
The giant hesitated. "Listen... I know he is your friend. But... no one shoots _that_ bad. Even if he couldn't aim at all he would have accidentally hit a soldier once or twice.  
He doesn't practice with us; he sometimes leaves for hours...  
Robin... He is a traitor. "

"No." Aragorn shook his head. "No John, he is not."  
"He tried to talk you out of every single robbery we did."  
"Legolas is _no_ traitor." Aragorn repeated.

"Rob. I know he is your friend. But we all feel it. Look at the evidence. Look at how he behaves. There isn't a single thing I can say in his favour."  
"What about the fact that we have not been betrayed? All our robberies succeeded and none of us have been caught."

John shook his head. "I will keep an eye on him."

* * *

"Traitor."

His sharp hearing had picked up every word that John had spoken.  
And the word still sang through the elf's head.

He had called him a traitor.

As if he could ever, ever... ever betray Aragorn. As if he hadn't spent the last few years fighting in a way he didn't support. As if he hadn't given up his entire life in Mirkwood to follow his friend.

He had called him a traitor.

Legolas thought of all the times he had wanted to leave. The times the call of his home was strong in his heart. The times he had longed to be amongst elves again, to hear their singing.  
To hear them laugh. To shoot an arrow and actually hit something. To see the elves smiling at him and nod approvingly when he did.

Sometimes the want of approval was so strong in the elf he swore to himself that next time, Next shot... he would just kill the soldiers. Next time he would just shoot for real.

But of course he didn't.  
He would never give up his principles just to fit in.  
Legolas Thranduillion was a member of the house of Oropher, renowned to hold on to their opinions, even if it killed them in the end.  
He didn't really want their approval, he wanted to do what was right.

Legolas just wished that to do what was right would not make him feel so terribly lonely.

* * *

When he was with his little band of outlaws Aragorn felt accepted in a way he never had when he had been with the elves.  
It wasn't like Elrond and his brothers had ever made him feel unwanted or unaccepted… it was just… they had always made him feel small, incapable.

For the first time in his live Aragorn was better at shooting than all the people that surrounded him. People listened to his ideas; he was a leader instead of the inexperienced, clumsy younger brother..  
A prince rather than a clumsy boy.  
It was almost as if he and Legolas had switched places. And Aragorn felt deeply sorry for the elf.

"Legolas"

The elf was seated below a tree in the shadows, a little bit away from the others. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his eyes were staring into the distance. The elf's hands clutched his bow.  
"Legolas" Aragorn repeated.  
The elf blinked a few times, and Aragorn suddenly realised his friend had been sleeping.  
Had he truly been this long amongst humans to forget what a sleeping elf looked like?  
"I'm sorry, my friend. I did not mean to wake you."  
"But you did." The elf answered in a sleepy voice.  
"I'm sorry"

Legolas shook his head. "I'm glad you are talking to me." he admitted. "You can wake me up for it anytime. It has been a long time since we last talked."  
Aragorn frowned. "What are you talking about? We talk all the time!"  
His friend stared him in the eye. "'pass me the bread please' hardly counts as conversation, my friend. I wished that we would speak like we did before." Legolas gave the ranger a sad smile. "Back when you actually listened to my opinions before you discarded them."  
"Legolas..."Aragorn said in pain. The accusation stung. "I would never discard your opinion."  
The elf didn't answer and looked away.  
"In fact..." the ranger continued, "I came to ask you for it. It is about the Miller situation."

'The Miller situation' had been a problem the outlaws had wanted to solve for some time now. Deacon the Miller had been one of the sympathetic villagers, who supplied the outlaws with food. Until he had been caught by the soldiers of Prince John. Not for supplying Robin Hood, but simply because the poor man could not pay his taxes.  
Deacon had been convicted to die within two weeks, unless his family would pay his debts.  
It was on final cruelty Prince John had thought of for his own amusement, for he knew the poor Miller family could never raise that much money.

But the Prince had not counted on Robin Hood.

Deacon's young son Much had brought word to the outlaws, begging them for their help, and the moment Aragorn had heard of the situation he had been determined to solve it.  
Now he had finally found a way.

"You will not believe our luck." the rangers started his story; his eyes were twinkling. "There is a huge convoy coming this way, soldiers disguised as healers, and horses heavy under the load of the taxpayers' money." Aragorn smiled. "Money enough to pay the debts of all the peasants locked up in the Prince's dungeons, Legolas. Moving right through our forest."

"How many soldiers?" Legolas asked, barely concealing his sigh. 'And how many of them are little more than children?' his mind added.  
"Sixty" without knowing it Aragorn answered both questions.

"Sixty?" The elf repeated. "Are you aware that you are only five? The numbers are impossible."  
"_We _are _six._ And the numbers are not impossible. Not if you shoot with us."  
"Impossible still." The elf said stubbornly.  
"No." Aragorn argued, and he suddenly began to understand why Little John thought Legolas a traitor. He had hoped... He had thought... Legolas had liked Deacon as well, hadn't he?

"Not if you _really_ shoot. If you actually got over yourself long enough to realize we are actually doing good here! You could shoot all sixty of those Valar-forsaken soldiers and you know it! So why don't you? Deacon is your friend too!"

Legolas looked away. "There are other..."

"_No!_" Aragorn hissed. "No there are _NOT _other ways! Valar! I sometimes feel like I am the one that lived for millennia! You are so _naive._"

The ranger turned his back on his friend and stormed away.

It wasn't until late that night; when his anger had been replaced by hurt that the ranger realized that he _had_ discarded Legolas's opinion without listening to it.

* * *

Legolas felt lonelier than ever. It had been three nights since Aragorn and he had fought, and since then they had been avoiding each other. While the elf had withdrawn even more to himself, the ranger had sought the company of the others.  
It wasn't what Legolas wanted. In his heart he wanted to beg Aragorn to talk to him again. He would beg, cry, even dance on the table naked to have their friendship back. But Aragorn demanded something of him he couldn't do.

He couldn't say he was sorry, for he was not.  
He couldn't shoot the soldiers, for they weren't evil; they were misguided children, who trusted their lives to someone who could not be trusted.  
Deacon the Miller was a fine man, but Legolas knew that most of the soldiers were just as fine men. And the elf could not kill sixty to save one. He was no kinslayer.

Yet, to regain his friendship with Aragorn, he was almost willing to become one. And that frightened him maybe most of all.

* * *

"Legolas! Legolas!" Aragorn was dancing almost as much as he was running. "You were right, Legolas! There is another way! I have found it!"

The fight he had with the elf had weighted heavily upon his heart. Yet the ranger had not been able to forgive the elf his stubbornness. Not if there still was a change Deacon died because of it.  
Not until now.  
Now, Aragorn had found the perfect compromise.

The elf's eyes shone brightly when he noticed the ranger running towards him, and the first grin in a long time spread on his face.  
"What is it?" Legolas asked curious, almost as excited as Aragorn himself.  
"Much the Miller's son just brought the news." Aragorn said, trying to calm his breathing at the same time. "It is a way to free Deacon without bloodshed. It is a competition. Prince John is hosting an archery- competition. And the prize-money is, well, enough to free a dozen Deacons. It is almost too good to be true!"  
Aragorn looked at his friend, expecting to see the elf grin like he was grinning. But instead the elf paled.

"It _is_ too good to be true." Legolas whispered and looked his friend in the eyes.

"Estel... It is a trap."

* * *

Aragorn had never shot as well as he did now.

For the first time he could do as his brothers had instructed him a long time ago.  
"Pay no attention to your surroundings, and focus only on the arrow and target." They had told him.

He did not have to fear laughing elves today, or brothers that thought it funny to spook him when he was concentrating. He didn't feel the eyes of Legolas upon him today, who never spoke, and never made fun, but who could shoot so much better, that he always made Aragorn feel small and incompetent.

No, today, it was just him and the target.  
And the target was loosing badly.

The ranger did not have much eye for the other competitors of this game, but he still knew he was winning. He hadn't missed the bulls-eye once.  
For a short moment Aragorn wished Legolas would be here to see him.  
But then he remembered that he hated the stubborn elf now, and their friendship was officially over.

Aragorn would win this match, save Deacon, and prove to Legolas that his pessimism was as unfounded as it was appreciated. Then he would ask the elf to return to the dark spider-invested forest where he obviously belonged.

He shook his head and concentrated on shooting again.  
The entire world seemed to fade.  
He aimed.

* * *

Little John looked around the camp.  
Robin was gone.  
All by himself. Without informing anyone where he went.  
Something was not right.

The giant spotted the elf, Robin's so called best friend, in one of the corners.  
The elf; the traitor. Lega...something.  
It seemed like he was packing.

John's eyes narrowed.

"You!" he roared, as he pulled the elf up by his collar. "Where is Robin?"

The elf shrugged and pulled his clothes straight again. "Why should I care? Aren't _you_ his best friend now?" He answered softly. There were strains of tears on his cheeks, but John didn't notice.  
When the giant looked at the elf he could only see a traitor. A spy.  
"You'd better hope he is alright, elf. You'd better hope he is."  
The giant moved away.

He feared the worst.

* * *

Aragorn had reached the finale.  
This competition was now between him and one of the prince's men.  
For someone with such a doubtful allegiance it seemed unlikely, but the man shot like he had elvish blood.  
For three times now both of them had hit the centre of their targets, and as there was nothing to improve that shot, this contest could last forever.  
The crowd was loosing its patience.  
The prince's man stepped up in front of the target once more. He aimed, he shot, bulls-eye.

Aragorn sighed, and took the man's place. This would have to be another draw. The shot was unbeatable, again.  
'Is it?' Legolas asked in the back of Aragorn's mind. 'why don't you just split his arrow?'  
'Because that is impossible' his own voice countered.  
This time it was not only the voice of Legolas that answered; Aragorn heard Elladan and Elrohir as well. 'No it isn't' they spoke in unison.

'Just hold your breath, and aim' Elladan's voice instructed him.  
'To the left, to the left' Elrohir whispered, almost as clear as if the elf was standing behind him.  
'Stop!' The Legolas in his minded smiled at him and guided his hand. 'Now...shoot.'

Aragorn closed his eyes and shot.

For a few seconds, everything was silent.  
Then the crowd burst into cheers.

The ranger grinned and opened his eyes. He almost couldn't believe it himself. He had done it! He had split his first arrow!  
He turned around, half expecting to see Legolas there, smiling at him. Instead he saw only soldiers. Lots of soldiers, rushing towards him. Yelling.

"It is him! The Hooded Robber! Only he can shoot that good! Catch him!"

The ranger moved quickly, ready to fight, until he noticed his fellow finalist, a man in the service of prince John, aiming an arrow at his heart. "Move and your dead." the man said. "Drop your bow."

From the highest tribune, Aragorn could feel the evil prince look down on him and smile.  
Legolas had been right after all.  
It had all been a trap.

* * *

"Little John! Little John!"

The boy sounded as if he was panicking. He had run the entire way to the hidden camp of the outlaws as fast as he could, but in spite of that, he looked very pale.  
"Little John!"  
The giant man turned around and caught the boy in his arms. "Much! What's wrong?"  
The boy gulped for air. "The soldiers… The soldiers caught Robin... There was a trap."  
"A trap?" John hissed as he put the boy down.

With his eyes he searched the camp for the traitor.

Legolas was collecting the last few things from the camp that belonged to him. He was leaving; he would not stay in this forest one moment longer. He was going home.  
There was nothing keeping him here now that his friendship with Aragorn had been broken. He would be gone before the ranger got back from wherever he went. Stupid human.  
He though briefly about leaving some sort of a note behind. Something that could show the ranger where he went, so Aragorn could follow him if he had come to his senses. For two seconds Legolas could actually believe the ranger would.

Then he shook his head. Aragorn was right. He was naive.  
He had believed true friendship existed.

A sudden pain woke him from his sombre thoughts. Someone pulled his hair. Hard.

* * *

The elf had been trying to sneak away, but John had spotted him, the traitor.  
For months he had watched the elf like a hawk, ready to kill him the moment the spy would show his true colours.  
But all those long months the traitor had been cautious, never had he stepped a toe out of line.

John hadn't been able to find a single piece of real evidence against him.  
He had almost started to believe Robin was right and the elf could be trusted after all.

But now look at what had happened.

He hated the elf for being able to fool Robin this way; Robin, the best man in the world.  
He hated himself for almost falling for it too.  
In fact, there was only one thing about this situation he liked.

He liked the fact that the elf had not been able to sneak away before John could punish him for his betrayal.

* * *

The one holding his hair was merciless, forcing the elf to move exactly where his attacker wanted him to be. Legolas tried to fight, but his attacker was behind him; out of his reach, and the elf couldn't turn around. At least, not without losing most of his hair. He had lost a few strands already, by simply trying to get a glimpse of his attacker.

"Why?" he demanded to know. "Why are you doing this? Let me go!"  
No one answered, no one let go.

His attack had effectively disabled Legolas way of fighting by approaching him from the back. He could not reach his knives now, he could not use his bow. It was almost as if the man behind him had studied the way he fought and knew his weaknesses.  
Cold fear crept into Legolas heart. It couldn't be. No. Never.  
Yet his mind remembered the fight they had had and refused to let go of the horrible idea.  
"Estel?" he whispered.

He didn't feel the pain of the first blow that hit him, because he also caught a glimpse of the man delivering it, and the relief that washed through his body was strong enough to banish every other feeling he had ever had.  
But he did feel the pain the second time the club connected with his body, and the all the others after that, until he felt nothing anymore, and the world was only black.

* * *

The only thing Aragorn could see from the small barred window of his cell, were the gallows they were building for him.  
It was one of the most depressing things the ranger had ever seen and yet he kept staring at it.  
From the moment he had shot that first soldier in the woods, a long time ago now, he had known it could end this way.

There wasn't a single thing Aragorn regretted about those few years, except for the fact that Legolas had been there. For if the elf had stayed behind they would still have been friends.  
They never would have known how fragile their friendship really was.

His eyes fell on the gallows again. Tomorrow it would be ready. Tomorrow he would be dead.

* * *

He was tied tightly to the tree, and the gag in his mouth in his mouth made it difficult to breathe. The only parts of him he could still move where his fingers and so he did, constantly, to prove to himself that he was still alive. To concentrate on something other than the lack of oxygen and the fact he was feeling dizzy.

His thoughts were balancing at the edge of a panic. He couldn't breath, he couldn't swallow, he would drown in his own saliva.  
'No' he tried to calm himself. 'No, don't think of that. Think of good things. Like... stars. Stars and flowers and laughter and friendship.'

In the deepest part of Legolas's mind a voice laughed at him. A side of himself that didn't see the good in the world, because it had seen too much evil; a voice inside him that no longer dared to hope, for all his hopes had been crushed. A bitter, darker version of himself he had kept hidden from himself for as long as he could force it to. On good days that was easy. But today was not a good day.

'You call friendship a good thing?' the voice asked cruelly. 'What has it ever brought you but pain? Let's just face it, Legolas. Aragorn was only your friend because he wanted a little slave to do his bidding. To laugh as he laughed, travel as he travelled, someone who agreed with every single thing he said, with every thought he had ever had. You weren't his friend, Legolas; you were his pet.  
An exotic hound.  
And when you didn't agree anymore. When you showed him you were more than his puppy, he left you behind in a forest, tied to a tree.  
'Friendship!' the voice in his mind spoke the word like it was a curse.  
Legolas wished he could swallow, for somehow he had the idea that if he could only swallow enough, the tears that threatened to spill over his eyes would disappear.

'Good things, good things" he reminded himself. 'Stars, flowers, laughter, friendship... friendship... Aragorn'  
For some reason the rangers name was too linked to all that was good in his mind to think of something else.  
'As loyal as a dog.' the voice in his mind mocked him. 'One of those pathetic ones that always wag their tails when they spot their master, no matter how badly they have been abused by him."

'Aragorn didn't abuse me.'  
'He hurt you.'  
'We only had a different opinion about something. That was all.'

And at that moment Legolas realised that that truly _was_ all.  
The elf closed his eyes.  
'Oh, Aragorn, my friend, we have been so stupid.'

* * *

Guy of Gisborne was the best hunter he knew. And the best tracker as well.  
And strangely enough, now that prince John forbade everyone to hunt deer, Guy was busier than ever.  
He didn't hunt animals anymore. He hunted people.  
And today the followed the tracks of a small boy.

Guy had been watching this Much, son of Deacon the Miller. The boy slid in and out of the forest just a little too often. The hunter was very curious to the reason behind that all.  
The boys tracks suddenly where accompanied by other footprints.  
Several adults had passed this way, frequently.

Guy of Gisborne smiled, somehow he had the feeling this would be a great catch.  
The hunter turned and motioned the soldiers behind him to follow.

* * *

With his sharp elven eyes Legolas noticed the soldiers before anyone else did, but he had no way to warn the others, as the gag in his mouth made it impossible for him to speak. That however, didn't mean he did not try.  
He moved around as far as his bonds allowed, and made as as much noise as he could.  
"Soldiers, John! Will! Tuck! Soldiers!" Legolas tried yelling, thought the gag, almost choking while he tried. But if the others could understand him, they paid no attention to his words. They didn't notice the soldiers until the first burning arrow reached the camp.

From his position Legolas could see nothing of the battle, he could only hear the sounds and he knew Aragorn's men would never make it.  
There were too many soldiers and burning arrows were flying everywhere setting both the camp and the trees around it afire.  
Including the one Legolas was tied to.

The panic of the tree and the pain it felt send shivers trough the prince's spine. He could feel what the tree felt, for whatever happened to it would happen to him. They were unable to move, unable to run away from danger, and the moment one of the flaming arrows caught it's branches they both knew they would die.  
There was no escape.  
Unless the ropes burned before he did.  
Or someone would cut his bonds.

Legolas felt like a traitor for thinking of escape for himself, when there could be none for the tree, but he couldn't help it. To make up of it he poured all the strength he had left; all the good thoughts he had used to stay sane, into the tree. All the tree could give him in return was its pain.  
It soon became too much for Legolas to bear, the pain of the flames licking at his branches combined with the pain of the torture he had received earlier eventually caused him to faint.

* * *

"And what about _him_, Guy?" one of the soldiers pointed at the figure bound to the burning tree.  
They had caught and bound all the outlaws, including Much, the small boy. And since all of those bandits had a great price on their heads, the hunt had indeed been excellent.

Guy of Gisborne grinned. He would be a very rich man by morning.

"Leave him there." Guy answered the soldier's question. "He probably deserved death by flames, and I don't seem to recall an elf mentioned on the wanted posters."  
"Sir?" One of the soldiers asked. "He was there alright, sir. I believe the elf is the one they call Robin's Retard, sir. You know... The one member of the Merry Men of Robin Hood that can't shoot. There are tales about him, sir. I believe he even missed the prince's steward when they stood but a few paces away from each other."

The hunter stared at the elf in disbelief. "_That_ is Robin's Retard?"

The soldier nodded "I believe so, sir. The others of Robins Men must have had enough of his failures."

A sly smile formed around the edges of Guy's mouth.  
"Very well." the hunter said. "Take him with us."

A dangerous glint appeared in the hunter's eyes.  
"I'm sure we will have fun with him."

* * *

Muffled screams of other prisoners reached his cell. The sounds were not very loud, but Aragorn still found them impossible to ignore.  
He shifted restlessly in his bonds, unable to sleep.  
For some cruel reason all the voices screaming sounded familiar somehow.  
The people that were tortured today were the people he had not been able to save. He had failed them. Like his ancestor Isildur, the good deeds of his past would be erased because of all the promises he didn't keep.  
Like Isildur before him, Aragorn had allowed evil to endure. For he would die tomorrow and prince John would live on.

Suddenly all muscles of Aragorn's body flexed. The blood was drained from his face.  
"NO!" he screamed and fought his chains with all his strength.  
"NO! Let him go! He did nothing! He has nothing to do with this! He didn't even shoot you! He is innocent! Let him _go_!"

One of the voices had sounded more than just familiar. One of those voices had cursed in elvish.

"Legolas!" He yelled, hoping his friend could hear him. "Hold on, mellon nin! Hold on!"  
"Estel!"  
"Legolas!" Aragorn could hear the pain in his friends voice even through the walls.  
"Estel! I… sorry! Fight... stupid... shouldn't... forgive..." The words were partially blocked by the walls and screamed in Silvan dialect; a clear sign Legolas was badly hurt. But Aragorn understood it anyway.  
He called back in elvish as well, hoping the words would reach his friend.  
"No, Legolas, I'm sorry! I should never have forced you into doing something you didn't want to do. And you were right! It was a trap! I should have listened to you! I'm SORRY!"  
"Friends?" Legolas screamed, the word sounded as if was formed while his body was beaten.  
"Friends!" Aragorn shouted back at the top of his lungs.

After that the elf didn't answer anymore.  
"Legolas?" Aragorn called worriedly. "Legolas!" He fought his chains with all his might, but they didn't give way.  
"_Legolas!_"

He banged himself at the wall of his cell again and again, hoping that something would break. The chain, or the bricks... but the only thing that broke was him.  
"My friend!"  
No one answered.  
His arms were so tired now; he couldn't even lift them anymore, yet he gave one last pull.  
"Legolas please!" he sobbed. "please... be alright, my friend. Just be alright… "

But still only silence met his ears and he sank to his knees in despair.

"There lies the great Robin Hood defeated." A man stared down on Aragorn with a cruel smile. The ranger had not even noticed him coming in, he had been too focussed on Legolas.  
"How does it feel to know you are dying, scum? Do you like the gallows we build for you?"  
Aragorn looked up.  
The prince looked a lot worse in real life than he did on the coins. Yet it was unmistakably the same miserable person.

"The elf.." he said softly. "Let him go, please. I will do everything, I will give you anything... just let him walk free."  
The prince smiled. "You mean the retard? Why should I?"  
Aragorn looked up. Even in chains, on the floor with tears in his eyes, he looked twice as kingly as the prince did.  
"Because he is innocent. You wanted me, and here you have me. Let the elf go. He means nothing to you."  
"Is he your friend?" The prince asked, a cruel smile played around his lips.

Aragorn knew that he would probably condemn his friend to death with the answer, and he felt torn. Yet he had not the heart to deny it.  
The ranger straightened his shoulders and looked the tyrant in the eyes.  
"He is the best friend I've got."

"Then he will die."

And with those words the monarch left Aragorn alone in the cell once more.

* * *

A red sun rose over the courtyard of stone and the gallows that stood there. From his balcony prince John II could see the arrival of the first spectators.

He grinned satisfied.

Today would truly be a spectacle, the prince had made sure the people would be talking about 'the day Robin Hood died' for ages. His most powerful opponent would hang from the gallows today.  
But first the prince would humiliate the man. After all... the people had to be reminded that having hope was a very dangerous thing.

It had to be crushed.

And John had thought of just the perfect plan to do that.

He grinned.  
A spectacle indeed.

* * *

At least the weather was good.

It was the only thing Aragorn thought of when the guards came to drag him to his death.  
At least the weather was good on the last day he lived, so he could see the sun one last time.

Somehow the fact that this day would be his last made him look at the world with different eyes. All colours were bright, all trees were in bloom; and thousands of people had come to watch his death. He walked between them.  
He suddenly understood what Legolas meant. He suddenly realised the value of a human life was endless, immense, for all life was beautiful.

He stopped and breathed the smell of spring for what would probably be the last time he had the chance.  
One of the soldiers kicked him, forcing him to move on.  
They forced him onto the platform and pulled a noose around his neck.

Aragorn didn't notice.  
His eyes fell on a bird, and he followed its flight.  
Aragorn now regretted that he had never stopped to notice how beautiful the world could be until now; now when he had almost no time left to enjoy it.

Drums ruffled, announcing his death. The executioner moved closer, ready to perform his duty.

Aragorn nodded to himself.

This was it.  
The end.  
Goodbye.

But suddenly the executioner stopped and the drums fell silent.

* * *

From his balcony prince John smiled. This was his moment; this was what he had been waiting for.  
He stood up from his chair and gave the crowd what he hoped was a fatherly nod, careful not to show the peasants his disgust.

"Good people!" he started his speech. "The Valar know you have loved this bandit! He gave you money and food and in return you believed his lies."  
The prince sighed, pretending to be an understanding, but disappointed father.  
"Some of you even demanded I let the bandit go, there were even threats of riots, good people. But look at him!"

The prince pointed at the ranger. "Look at your hero! Is that the kind of man you would trust your children's lives to? Does he look like the kind of man who would be true to his word?  
The money he gave you was stolen charity money, and he kept half of it to himself!  
The brave soldiers killed by his cowardly arrows were your brothers and husbands!  
Look at him!"

The prince pointed at the ranger again.

The man had the rope around his neck already, but still he refused to look properly defeated, John noticed to his annoyance. He gritted his teeth.  
Still... The bandit looked bad. His clothes were torn at least. John was sure the peasants would get his point.

"This bandit has called me a tyrant, but I will prove to you that I'm not!  
I will prove to you the Valar are on my side! They want him to die!" He paused, to let the announcement sink in.

"To prove it, I will give the Valar one last change to save this bandit, to prove to him they want him alive!  
I, from the goodness of my heart, will give this man, who sought to kill me, one change of live. Ladies and gentlemen. When this bandit is hung I will give one of his own men, ladies and gentlemen, one of his _own_ men a bow and an arrow, and the change to save his master with a single shot."

He didn't tell the crowds that by man he actually meant the retard elf, who couldn't shoot a cow when it was standing next to him.  
He didn't tell that he would give him the most miserable arrow he could find.  
He most certainly didn't tell the crowd that last night, when they had tortured the outlaws, he had ordered the men to pay special attention to the elf's shoulders, arms and fingers. So shooting would be almost impossible now.

But as his soldiers forced the elf to step into position at the other side of the courtyard, John the second was sure Robin Hood knew.  
He grinned at the man; expecting to see him look properly defeated _now_.

But the ranger was smiling.

* * *

Legolas stepped blinkingly into the sun. He had no idea what the soldiers wanted of him now, or if it was wise to follow their orders. But what he did know was that it would hurt if he didn't.

And after yesterday, he was willing to go frightingly far to prevent that from happening again.

The pain of burns and wounds on his back was almost too much to bear. With every step he took he had to remind himself to stay alert and not loose consciousness again.

When he had awoken this morning he had been naked and alone in a prison-cell, without memories of being naked yesterday. That had been the worst torture of it all. He didn't know what they had done to him. He couldn't remember. He remembered how they had tried to break his fingers and how he had resisted. He remembered the shouted conversation with Aragorn. And how they were friends again.

But after that... nothing.  
He had still been wearing his leggings back then.  
What had they done to him?

Or was it all just psychological torture? He prayed to the Valar it was only psychological torture.  
But if it was, it was working. He felt he was going insane.

He had found his clothes somewhere in a corner and had put them on before the guards returned.  
But he had made a promise to himself then, and he repeated that promise with every step.

He would not pass out again.

The soldiers had led him to a crowed place, with hundreds and hundreds of people all looking up at him, all staring. Legolas could feel their eyes upon him and shivered. He couldn't find a single friendly face amongst them.

He spotted prince John himself smiling down upon him, as if he, Legolas Thranduillion, was some kind of tool that fitted theprince hand well. Legolas felt as if he couldn't breath. He didn't understand this situation. He didn't know what they expected of him, or what he should do to prevent being hurt. He just knew that he didn't like the look on the face of John the Second one bit.

He had heard bits of the prince's speech, though he couldn't make sense out of it.  
When the soldiers handed him a bow and an arrow he thought they had gone insane. But then he spotted Aragorn, and the rope around the ranger's neck.

* * *

John II stared at the elf in annoyance. The boy clearly had no clue what he was doing here.  
He must even be more retarded than the stories said he was.  
The elf hadn't even put the arrow on the string yet.

That was not good. To fit John's plan to prove that the Valar wanted the bandit dead, the boy had to miss the rope, but he did have to shoot. Otherwise he couldn't sell the drama to the people.  
John needed a spectacle to prove that he was right.  
To impress the crowd.

"You!" he pointed at the elf, who flinched. "Save him!" he pointed at Robin Hood. "Shoot that arrow through the rope." he added, just to be sure.

The retard seemed to get it. He notched the arrow.  
John grinned.  
With a dramatic gesture he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and gave a signal.  
The drums ruffled.  
John let the handkerchief slip out of his fingers.  
The drums stopped.  
And when John looked at the gallows again, his enemy was hanging there, fighting for his life.  
John leaned back.

So this is what total victory felt like.

* * *

Legolas wished he had had time to apologize to Aragorn for the fact that he was about to fail his friend and condemn him to death.  
With his sharp elven eyes he had seen the look of total confidence in the rangers eyes, right before the rope was fasted around is neck.  
Even from the long distance, he could see the look of complete faith in Legolas's abilities in the man's eyes.

Tears clouded Legolas view, and he tried to aim.

He wished he had the same confidence in himself. He wished he could stop his hands from shaking like the ranger expected him to. He wished he could shoot the rope in one swift motion, like Aragorn had seen him shoot thousands and thousands of bulls-eyes before. Aragorn was right in his faith, Legolas should be able do this.  
If he had had the time to aim.  
If his arrow had been straight.  
If his fingers and shoulders weren't so badly bruised.

But they were. His hands were shaking, making it almost impossible to aim. He felt the sweat drip from his forehead. He couldn't do this. Not like this.  
He felt sick when he saw Aragorn hanging there; fighting for his life, he couldn't help him; he couldn't shoot.  
The fact that he would almost certainly fail his friend made it almost impossible to even try.  
"I'm so sorry" he whispered.

When he pulled the string back the pain in his shoulders was almost too much to stay conscious. But he forced himself to ignore that.  
He forced himself to ignore the pain in his fingers. He forced himself to use his shoulders. He held his breath and aimed.

He could do this.

He suddenly remembered something that he had almost forgotten in these last few years of his life spend missing every single shot. He _was _a good archer. Once, this shot would have been easy for him, something he could have done a thousand times. And his body still remember how it was done. His body remembered how it was supposed to move, it followed ancient patterns, and he smiled.  
Despite the pain, despite the risk of losing his best friend it felt so good to shoot again. To _really_ shoot.

When he let go of the arrow he knew he had succeeded. He watched his friend fall with a heavy thud and he winched. Still he guessed Aragorn would rather fall to the floor then die by hanging. He figured their friendship would survive, and grinned.  
The pain he had ignored while shooting came back to him now, but none of that mattered.  
He had really done it. For the first time in the years they had spent in this kingdom, Legolas felt like himself again.

* * *

The moment to elf released the arrow Prince John knew there was something wrong. The elf's movements were fluent, and impressively coordinated.  
He knew the elf's shoulders were hurt. He knew at least two of the elf's fingers were broken. He knew the boy was retarded.  
This could not be happening. He shouldn't be able to hit the rope. He had mad sure of that. Not even Robin Hood himself would have had been able to shoot that rope.  
But the elf did.

The prince was frozen to the spot. He didn't have a plan as to what to do now; he had never thought of what he should do if the retard would actually succeed, that simple had not been an option.

His eyes fell on the bandit beneath the gallows, rubbing his painful neck. Robin Hood was smiling, no it was more than that; he was laughing at him, prince John II.

The prince suddenly couldn't care less about the people's opinion of him, or the fact that there would be riots.  
He pointed at the ranger and screamed like an angry child.

"Kill him! Kill him! I want him dead! Kill! Kill! Die, Hood! DIE!"

* * *

Guy of Gisborne had been in the crowd all the time, hoping to enjoy the spectacle he had helped create from the best angle. He had looked forward to the moment where John announced that he would give the bandit one last chance at life ever since he had first heard of the idea.

He had been present during the elf's torture yesterday. In charge of it actually, and he had made sure the elf wouldn't be able to move his fingers.

He would love to see the elf try and shoot the bow now, he would love to see how the creature would fail.  
Oh, how he would rub it in during the next torture session. Guy grinned satisfied. He would break that elf completely, and then he could claim the retard as his price. It would be nice to have a toy like that.

He watched as the soldier handed the elf the bow and arrow, and licked his lips in anticipation.  
But none of his great expectations came true.  
The elf didn't fail; the ranger fell onto the ground.

Guy didn't need to hear his prince's screams to know John II would want the ranger dead. The minute the rope had snapped the hunter started moving forward, dagger at the ready in his hand.  
That man would die today. And the elf would be his.

From his high position Legolas watched the chaos unfold. He could see the crowd staring at him and at Aragorn, most of them in awe. Most of the soldiers were staring at him as well; only their faces were less friendly.

But they didn't move. Not even when the 'prince' started screaming and yelling that they should kill Aragorn. It was as if they all held their breaths and waited, now that the world took such an unexpected turn.

But there was one person that didn't stare, one person that moved through the crowd, with a dagger in his hand. Legolas recognized one of the men that had tortured him and involuntary he shivered. The man was evil. Not the kind of evil that orcs or Balrogs were, but evil still. And he was moving towards Aragorn.

In spite of himself and the beliefs he had held on to all these years when Aragorn had asked him to fight, Legolas reached back for a quiver that wasn't there.  
Aragorn had been right: Sometimes the lives of some were more important than the lives of others. And to Legolas the live of Aragorn mattered more than the lives of all other humans on the earth.  
How ironic it was that, after all these years of pretending, the first time Legolas actually wanted to shoot a human being he had no arrows to do it.

The evil man was closing in on Aragorn, his dagger was ready to take his friend's life.

"An arrow!" Legolas yelled to the people in the crowd. "I need another arrow!" They all just stared at him, as if they could no longer move, or even blink. Legolas let out a sigh and kicked the platform he was standing on in frustration.  
He hated to feel this helpless.  
Estel had noticed the man advancing on him, and got ready to fight on him, and he readied himself for the fight. Legolas felt sick. His friend was still swaying on his feet, moving as if he was very dizzy.

"Estel!..." he called out to his friend, but he didn't know what else to say. He wanted to say he would be there for his friend, that he would fight with him, that he would be saved. But all those things were promises he couldn't keep.

He had saved Aragorn from the gallows only to see him get killed by a dagger. The pain in his shoulders was nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

Below him Aragorn dodged the first strike of the hunter's blade. The hunter stood with his back towards Legolas, so easy to kill if only he had had an arrow. Tears streamed down the elf's face.

"An arrow." he tried once more. "An _arrow!_" he demanded.  
The crowd still stared at him, without moving, without helping, and Legolas suddenly hated all of them. Every single one of them, that was just standing there, doing nothing while his friend was killed.  
"Sheep!" he shouted while the tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Stupid. Useless. _Sheep_!  
All you did today was _watch_!" He spoke the word 'watch' with a hatred he didn't even know he had in him. "All you _ever_ did was _watch_! You watched when John took you lands! You watchedwhen he stole your food! Youwatched when he took you neighbours and turned them into slaves! And today you came here to watch how he would kill your saviour, your champion, your _hero_!  
And you are still watching!  
When you die, you will go to Mandos and he will ask you what you have done with your life, and all you will be able to say is that _you watched it_!" He stopped, for his sobs made it impossible to go on. When he continued his voice had changed.  
"All I'm asking for is an arrow. I'm not asking you to shoot, or to stop watching, all I want is an arrow to save my friend. Please. _Please._"

On his left side, John II was still shouting for Aragorn's death, and right before him, too far for him to reach, Aragorn was fighting for his life.  
But all the people that stood between them just stared at him, Legolas Thranduillion, and just watched how he fell to his knees in pain.

He gave up; they wouldn't help him. All was lost. He hid his face in his hands and wept.  
He didn't move until something was placed into his lap.  
Something sharp, with feathers.

An arrow.

As he looked up he noticed an old soldier looking down on him.  
"You are right, boy. All I ever did was watch. Watch or worse. I didn't resist until now, when it is already too late, when the people I care about are beyond saving, and I have nothing left to lose. But you still have, son. Now, save your friend."

Legolas didn't waste time with thanking the man, instead he sprang to his feet, and, ignoring all pain and weariness he felt once more, he shot the man fighting Aragorn. And despite the fact that men were Illuvatar's second born, it felt just like shooting orcs.

* * *

Aragorn hadn't heard much of Legolas speech; he had been too busy fighting for his life, but he did notice the effect it had on the crowd around him. The people were no longer simply staring; they were shifting restlessly, looking from each other, to Prince John, to the soldiers, and back at each other.

It was almost as if they realized for the first time that they didn't have to let everything just happen to them. That they could do something about it. Even if it was just a small thing, like giving the right person the right amount of arrows at the right time.  
John II was still screaming, but no one was listening to the prince. The people were talking amongst themselves, eyeing the soldiers.

And when one of them yelled: "For Freedom!" the crowd was set in motion, and everything happened at once.

Aragorn had lost all track of Legolas in the riot began, but he knew the elf was still alive somewhere, because every now and then one of the men he fought would suddenly drop dead in an instance, an arrow sticking out of his back.  
But when he glanced in the direction of the arrow the elf had already moved out of sight again, fighting his own battles in the chaos.

It was hard to tell who to fight, as some of the soldiers had joined the uprising and others resisted and chose to stay loyal to their prince. Aragorn did his best to organize the peasants, shouting orders to all that would listen. And somehow… somehow they were winning. What had started as a riot became a revolution.

The palace was taken, although the prince had managed to escape, and the prisoners were released from the dungeons.  
Aragorn spotted Little John amongst the returning fighters, and caught glimpses of Tuck and Allan of Dale.

And suddenly, as quickly as it had started, the fight was over; there were no soldiers left to fight.

Aragorn moved through the crowd, helping where he could. The ranger found Deacon the Miller amongst the released prisoners, and Will Scarlet amongst the dead.

But he didn't see the person he wanted to see most.  
It was as if the elf had disappeared from the face of the earth.

* * *

At the beginning of the riot, someone had handed him a quiver full of arrows, and Legolas had shot his bow until the quiver was empty.

His shoulders hurt more than he should have been able to handle, but he ignored all pain. He shot to keep Aragorn alive, and that was all that mattered. If he just focused upon saving his friend, he could handle all pain, he could fight for as long as was needed, never even noticing his body's pleas for attention.  
But then, he had run into prince John.

* * *

When Aragon finally found Legolas, his first thoughts were the elf was dead.

Legolas lay motionless in a pool of blood, somewhere in a dark corner, as if someone had thrown the elf away like useless garbage.  
But somehow the elf was still breathing, and even able to smile at him.  
Aragorn smiled back, tears in his eyes.  
"There you are, mellon-nin. There you are." Aragorn said, his voice hoarse.  
Legolas grinned.  
"Knew... you'd find...me" he managed to say.

* * *

"I'm glad you are coming with me." Legolas spoke to his friend. The elf was still limping slightly, and he moved his shoulders as little as possible, but he would soon be up to par again.

Aragorn shrugged. "It is time to go home, I guess. We did what we could. Now it is up to them to make their own happy ending. "  
He fell silent for a while.

"It will be hard though; without a real leader. What they actually need is a king. Not someone like prince John... but a _real_ prince. Someone like... a human version of you, maybe. I wish there was any hope of that happening."

Legolas chuckled. "Estel, they don't need a prince. They have a king already. A good, brave, and just king. And someday, sooner or later he will come back and claim his kingdom."  
"Or he will stay a ranger forever." Aragorn countered, knowing exactly who Legolas was referring to.  
Legolas shook his head.

"No, Estel. Someday, their king will return. And we will all live happily ever after."

_The End_


End file.
